


The Very First Night

by hootyhoobuckaroo



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Babies, Bucky's kid is a little shit, F/M, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Hospitals, Kid Fic, Medical Procedures, Mentions of childbirth, Parent Bucky Barnes, Pregnancy, SO MUCH FLUFF, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, dad!bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 21:14:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15849480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hootyhoobuckaroo/pseuds/hootyhoobuckaroo
Summary: The story of the very first night with your newborn baby - and how you knew Bucky was going to be the best father he could. Written with a few flashbacks, it’s honeslty super sweet and there are some raw moments between Bucky and the reader as they struggle through being new parents, because a baby book can’t teach you everything right?For anyone who likes dad!Bucky, I think you'll like this ;)





	The Very First Night

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I was super nervous to writing anything baby-related and I deadass did an hour and a half of research! Mommy blogs are wack. Thank you @puppy-barnes for all the help! 
> 
> Also, "медвежонок" or "medvezhonok" means little bear / teddy bear. It's soft as hell, I couldn't resist.

Bucky hits the mat with a _thud_. God, he wasn’t as young as he used to be.

Natalia tugs on his ankle, and he peers up at her disgruntled. “Come on Yasha,” she quips. “Get up. We don’t have all day.” She punctuates this with another sharp yank of his ankle.

For a world renowned ex-assassin, he can’t be on top of his game at all times, as Nat informs him. With his foot tucked securely under her arm, she drags him across the floor like a big cat does with its prey.

Bucky stares forlornly up at the ceiling lights as they go by, his hair trailing behind him. “Wonder if this is what mops feel like,” he grunts. This startles a genuine _cackle_ out of Natalia, who drops his foot and dances out of reach.

 _Wretch_. “Негодяй”, he growls at her, making a clumsy swipe at her ankle.

She steps on his hand, pinning it with a victorious cry. They both know Bucky’s only letting her win because he wants, but that doesn’t stop Nat from crouching in front of him to tousle his hair. Bucky can only grumble at her so much before a low laugh escapes him. They’re both laughing like idiots when Sam thumps them on the shoulders, reminding them that training’s over.

“G’night,” he hollers behind him as he jogs out of the gym, duffel slung over his shoulder. FRIDAY already knows which floor he’s headed to when he lopes into the elevator, and offers him a cheery “Good evening,” on his way out. He tips a two fingered salute to the nearest security camera as he trots to the familiar apartment door.

He places his palm on the scanner, grin already tugging at his lips.

When the door opens, he sighs, taking in the scene. He can see straight into the kitchen, where you’re standing, mouthing the words to Van Morrison. Your sleeves are rolled up, and there’s flour up to your elbows. You sway as you prod the dough, and he drinks in the scene. To your side, on a little plastic stepstool that’s lived in your kitchen for six year, is your son. His hair is tied up just like yours, and he chirps along to the words he knows as he watches you work.

There’s a smear of flour on his cheek.

Bucky drops his duffel on the ground, and waits for his family to notice him. You throw him a flirty grin over your shoulder as you press the dough with your palms. “Hey handsome,” you breathe. “Just in time for dinner.” He blows you a kiss, and you catch it with a flour-dusted hand.

 _He’s such a sap_ , he thinks, but that doesn’t stop him from swooning, ‘cause he knows it’ll make you giggle.

At that moment, your son decides to tune in. You’d apparently tasked him with rolling out his own little pizza dough, and at the moment he was currently drawing a face on it with his tiny fingers. Maybe it was the familiar squeak of Bucky’s boots against the hardwood, or his low rumble of a laugh, but he spun around. He teetered on the step stool precariously for a second, loose strands of hair hitting him in the face, and Bucky’s dad instincts screamed “ _danger!”_

Luckily he righted himself with a messy hand against the countertop, and hurled himself towards Bucky. “Daddy!”

He knelt, arms wide. “Alexei,” he crooned, “C’mere.” By the time the last word had left Bucky’s mouth, his son had collided with his chest. Bucky pressed a kiss to his little one’s head. “медвежонок,” he whispered. “Medv-v-vezhonok,” he parroted, looking up at his father with wide blue eyes. “You got it,” Bucky praised. “My little bear.”

Alexei beamed up at him, pressing his little _flour-caked hands_ all over Bucky’s shirt. Bucky meet your eyes, and you laughed sheepishly when he winced. “Should’ve warned you it was pizza night,” you giggled.

It was one thing to get it off his Under Armor shirt, which was alien-proof, battle-proof, and child-proof, but his tactical pants were a different story. “Ah well,” he sighed, lips turning up just the slightest as Alexei finally succeeded in clambering into his lap. “They were bound to get dirty at some point.”

He grunted and stood, boosting Alexei onto his hip. “Looks good,” he hummed, stealing a pinch of cheese from one of the bowls. You moved to tweak his nose with your dirty hands and Bucky backpedaled, eyes wide. “First my own son, now my wife?” His tone of betrayal was a hint too shocked for you to take him seriously, and you snapped his hip with your dish towel. “You better believe it, good-looking.”

After washing his hands to help you and Alexei with the dinner-making, he stood behind his son, his arms cradling him from behind. It was slow and quiet, and he wouldn’t want to have it any other way. After you’d slid the pizzas into a roaring hot oven, Bucky settled down at the counter, dragging out a bar stool for you as well. He settled Alexei on his lap, who was content to lean against the warmth of his father’s chest.

“Daddy,” Alexei said, running his fingers over the plates of his metal arm. Bucky hummed in response, craning his neck to look directly down at his son. Alexei jerked up his chin to stare straight up at him, and you smothered a laugh. _My boys_ , you thought fondly.

“Daddy, what was it like when I was little?” Bucky twined his fingers with yours, a small smile on his lips. “What d’you mean Alexei? You’re still little.” Alexei let out a tiny whine and wiggled in Bucky’s lap, his arms wound around Bucky’s forearm. He clutched it desperately to his chest, as if it’d somehow make his father understand the urgency in his voice. “Like when I was _really_ little. Really really really really really re-”

“Okay,” you interrupted with a small laugh, seeing where this was going. “When you were just a little bean in my s-”

Alexei wiggled again, his mop of unruly brown hair - just as curly as his father’s – falling into his eyes. After a quiet “please” you gently re-did his ponytail. “Mom,” he said, fidgeting while you smoothed back stray hairs. “You an’ Dad already told me about when I was a bean in your tummy. What about after?”

“After,” you mused, meeting Bucky’s eyes. The delicate skin around them wrinkled in that wry grin you loved so much. “I think I’ve told you this story Alexei.” You narrowed your eyes playfully. “At least twice this week.”

“I wanna hear it again,” he said in a small voice. He met his father’s piercing blue eyes and hastily tacked on a “please”, his own eyes wide and hopeful.

“Maybe you could hear it from your Daddy’s point of view?” you offered, squeezing Bucky’s hand. “I’m sure he remembers things even I don’t.” The air was thick for a moment, and Bucky gently reeled you in for a soft kiss over Alexei’s head.

You broke away with a hum of amusement when Alexei mumbled something about kissing too much. Bucky winked at you and pressed a stubbly kiss to each of Alexei’s cheeks. It made him giggle and squirm relentlessly, but he settled back into Bucky’s arms a little more agreeable than earlier.

“So,” Bucky began, “A long long time ago, on a dark and stormy night-”

You covered your face with a groan, and Alexei frowned. “Dad, this isn’t a bedtime story,” he said, brows furrowing. “Not everything begins on a dark and stormy night.”

“Oh but it _was_.” Bucky gently chucked him under the chin. “I remember it like it was yesterday.”

Bucky cleared his throat, then in his best storytelling voice he began again – “A long long time ago, on a dark and stormy night-”

_(Almost seven years ago)_

It was mid-autumn in DC, and the winds were howling outside the compound. They had been for the past three days. Alexei was born during a rainy day, but you and Bucky couldn’t be bothered to notice the weather outside when your hands were tangled together, eyes clenched for entirely different reasons. When the doctors had handed you your swaddled son, who was 6 pounds 10 ounces, 19 inches, you’d cried tears of raw relief and happiness. So had Bucky.

Now that your little family was deemed ready to go home, everything was gathered. Alexei was swaddled appropriately, appointments were made, and a little cap was placed on his head before you were sent on your way. Everything hurt and you all smelled faintly of _hospital_ , but you couldn’t care less. You had no idea what you were getting into, but then again, did most parents?

When you’d been escorted from the Med Bay back to your suite, you’d settled Alexei in the crib Bucky and Steve had put together a week prior. A cursory glance of tired eyes told you everything was where it needed to be, and for a moment, just one, you could relax. Bucky helped you to the sofa, and you sat next to each other, slightly in shock.

“We had a baby,” you whispered, staring up at the ceiling. Your head tilted to meet Bucky’s eyes, which had deep-set circles dark enough to rival yours. “We had a baby,” he whispered back, lacing his fingers into yours. The two of you stared at the crib for a second and then-

“Let’s go check on him.”

“Yeah.”

Bone-tired, you still made your way to the edge of the crib, and you and your husband just peered down at him. Bucky could hear every little breath he took, the way he hiccupped and snuffled delicately into the impossibly soft blankets. He was so _tiny_ yet he was real and there and you couldn’t believe it.

It was a bit over an hour or two, but it felt like mere minutes to Bucky when he stood up to change Alexei.

You’d lifted him to the changing station, cooing sweet nothings down to the little bundle. Despite Bucky’s multiple offers, you insisted on being the first to change him. He grinned to himself when you declared that, your weary eyes burning fiercely with a new, yet strong brand of love. Just for your son.

“Want to hold him?” you asked. It was 7:13 PM and you’d both choked down a meal neither of you really payed attention to, your eyes straying to the crib. Bucky nodded. “Let me change,” he said, loping off to your bedroom. You cocked your head at his behavior, gently rocking Alexei. “Your father,” you whispered down to the sleeping baby, “Bucky, that’s his name – he’s one interesting man.” You took a breath and listened to the familiar sounds of Bucky shuffling around. You knew the sound of his quiet deep in your bones, the same way you knew the patterns on his arm without having to look.

Bucky came back out of the bedroom, and you squinted to see him in the dim light.

He moved into the kitchen and your heart melted.

 _Alexei would be so loved_.

Bucky’s hair was swept back into a neat bun, the loop of hair brushing the nape of his neck. He was wearing fitted black sweatpants and a maroon hoodie, both of which were well-loved. “I had FRIDAY wash these ahead of time – make sure they were one-hundred percent germ free an’ all, for the baby.” He held out his hands for his son, a shy grin on his face. On his hands were grey wool gloves, and when your fingers touched them you couldn’t help but smile – they were kitten soft, and just the tiniest bit warm from the heat of his body.

“I had FRIDAY order these for me too. Didn’t want my hands t’be cold or rough when I held him.” You knew Bucky’s concerns with his prosthetic, but it took you a second to remember the callouses on the pads of his fingers. You doubted it would hurt Alexei, not that Bucky would ever be that careless, but the _thought_ alone that went into his actions made you smile. You pressed a gentle kiss to the curve of his jaw as you helped arrange Alexei in his father’s arms.

His gloved fingers brushed yours momentarily, and your lips couldn’t help but quirk yet again at his fleecy touch.

Your son, in his 6 pound 10 ounce glory, was tucked carefully into the crook of Bucky’s right arm. “Lyoshka,” Bucky breathed fondly, tracing his thumb over Alexei’s tiny cheek. The baby snuffled, but was content to simply sleep in the comfort of his father’s embrace.

For bits and pieces of unmeasured time, it was just Bucky and his little family in the kitchen as he rocked back and forth, crooning lowly in Russian and English.

Bucky was drawn out of his stupor by the sound of pages flipping. He looked up to see you poring over a dictionary-thick book. You winked at him, loose strands of hair falling in front of your eyes. It did nothing to hide the way your eyes glinted mischievously.

“Says here babies benefit from ‘skin to skin’ contact.” You winked again, this time exaggeratedly enough that Bucky rolled his eyes.

“What are you getting at?” Bucky mock growled, soothing Alexei with a tender kiss.

You held up the book for him to see, which had an illustration of a father holding his child to his bare chest.

 _Ah_.

He wiggled his eyebrows lavisciously. “Is this a ploy to get me naked? ‘Cause if so, I’m afraid one baby is enough for right now.”

You mimed hurling the book at him, but set it down gently so you could watch over Alexei. “I’ll take him and you can take your shirt off?” Bucky gently leaned out of your grasp. “Hey now,” he began playfully, “I don’t remember agreeing to this.” You pressed your cold nose into his neck. “C’mon Buck,” you whispered.

“I don’t want you t’be afraid of letting Alexei near your arm.”

“And I’m not _afraid_ ,” he shot back, eyebrows raised. “I just … worry.” Then softer, “Like every parent does. I just don’t wanna fuck up even the littlest of things. “You curled your arms around him, a clear offer to let him shift your sleeping son into your arms.

“We’re in one of the safest buildings in the world, with the best doctors and the smartest AI.”

FRIDAY let out a pleased chime in response.

Bucky saw where you were going with the conversation and sighed. By the way he tilted his chin up to the ceiling and let out a grunt, you knew he was going to acquiesce.

“Don’t you want to get a head start on the father-son bonding?” you said innocently, tugging at the hem of his sweater. You chased away his unimpressed look with a sweet kiss to his cheek. His jaw was peppered with three-day old scruff, but it was familiar look at this point, even if it was a _bit_ bristly.

And with that, Alexei was transferred to your arms while Bucky wriggled out of his hoodie. He stared helplessly at his left arm. It whirred guiltily. “It’s cold,” he whispered by way of explanation. You felt it with a small frown. It _was_ chilly.

“Don’t you have a spare sleeve in your closet?” Bucky thumped the counter. “Shit _no_. I had that neoprene sleeve thing Tony made to go with my mission gear but it’s all torn up.” You both wrinkled your brows at each other in that way only confused (tired) new parents could do. Then Bucky’s face brightened.

He wrinkled his nose at you. You knew that face. It was his sheepish “ _I have a stupid idea that I think is secretly great_ ” expression.

He held up his discarded hoodie. “Hear me out, I know it’s new but what if I tear off the sleeve?” You sighed. Your husband just threw you a lopsided grin.

You sighed even louder when you realized it wasn’t an _awful_ idea.

“As long as you still wear the hoodie with the missing sleeve.” He scoffed, already reaching for the knife stowed in his boot. “Of course I will. Can’t wait to look like hot shit when I show up to train rookies and I’m wearing _this bad boy_.”

There was the sound of fabric tearing and you simply stared down at your sleeping son. “Your daddy’s a bit of an idiot,” you murmured, thumbing the blankets by his face.

“I heard that,” came Bucky’s voice, slightly muffled. The knife – sheathed thank god – was clenched in his teeth while he worked his arm into the detached sleeve. It still fit snugly around the thick curves of his upper arm. You were mildly impressed with how well it worked.

Bucky was then rewarded with a sweet congratulatory kiss. There was a quiet back and forth murmuring as the pair of you shifted your son.

Then he was finally back in his father’s arms. Bucky settled him back into his right arm this time, but his left arm was pressed just the smallest bit closer to his son, now that he knew it was absolutely safe and child-friendly.

( _Present_ )

“And then what happened?” Alexei wiggled impatiently in his seat as you got up to peek at the oven.

Bucky carded his fingers through Alexei’s hair, frowning absentmindedly at the snarls and tangles. It felt like he spent at least a third of his day brushing out his son’s unruly mane, only to come home and find it just as knotted as when he’d started.

“Well,” he huffed, “for your Ma and I, that was probably the most peaceful night we had for the next six months.”

You laughed in agreement. “Oh yes. Alexei, your father was right in calling you little bear as you roared every night and every day.”

Bucky gave you a knowing look over the top of his son’s head, remembering the night where the sound of your son’s shrill cries had you scrambling out of bed at ungodly hours. If you asked him though, Bucky’d tell you it was all worth it.

Alexei was still bubbling with questions during dinner, to the point where you had to remind him multiple times that his pizza would be better in his tummy and not falling out of his mouth while he interrogated you.

While Bucky did the dishes, you padded off to sift through the closet. You came back with an old garment box and a book. You set them on the couch with a firm order that Alexei not touch them until the dishes were done. The boy eagerly dried every dish while the pair of you scrubbed, glancing curiously back to the couch.

Once everything was finally taken care of, you scooped up your son and followed Bucky to the couch.

“Look in the box, Buck,” you prompted. You were already smiling, and even though he didn’t know what for, he smiled back. He pulled off the lid and his brain slowly sputtered to a halt. “You kept this? I thought we got rid of it after all this time?”

In the box was a very faded and pilled pile of red fabric. Bucky grabbed a handful and tugged it out of the box. It was a hoodie. The strings were missing and it was worn beyond belief but he’d recognize it anywhere – it was the same hoodie from that very story. It had seen so many other days with Alexei, and eventually he’d stopped wearing it once Alexei was too big to be cradled to his chest like … a baby.

He bit his lip and pulled out the sleeve.

“Is that from the story you told me?” Alexei crawled over to kneel next to his dad, staring with wide eyes at the hoodie.

Bucky mumbled something under his breath and proceeded to tug the tube of fabric over his left arm. To his surprise – but not yours – it still fit. “Like a glove!” he crowed, smiling at you with nostalgia sparkling in his eyes.

“The gloves are in the hoodie pocket.” Bucky slipped those on too.

For a strange moment, it was like the track of time had slipped a little, and it was seven years ago all over again. The grey hairs in Bucky’s beard and the delicate lines at the corners of his eyes told you otherwise, but he was still as handsome as he was young, in your eyes.

Your throat did something funny, and you couldn’t help but dry your eyes before continuing,

“And I have your baby album here.”

Alexei settled himself in Bucky’s lap, with you pressed right next to the two of them. You shifted the book to where the two of them could see, and opened it to the very first page. “Here’s from the f-“

You were interrupted by a small yelp – Bucky had scooped Alexei into his arms him very much the way he did when the boy was only a mere several pounds. “My baby bear,” your husband cooed, pressing a kiss to Alexei’s hair. The boy endured it with the most exasperated expression, yet he leaned against Bucky’s chest all the same.

“ ‘M not a baby anymore,” he mumbled.

“You’ll always be our baby,” you said gently, tearing your eyes away from the album. “Even when you’re all grown up.”

Alexei gave a tiny smile at that, which you and Bucky pretended not to see to spare him further embarrassment and cooing. There were a few more kisses and cuddles, but it died down when there was the creak of plastic, the sound of the photo album opening back up.

“Now where were we,” you mumbled. Bucky’s gloved finger tapped the first picture. “Right here.” It was a grainy ultrasound image. You smiled fondly.

“A long time ago,” you began, “your father and I got some very exciting news – probably the best news of our entire lives …”

_THE END_

**Author's Note:**

> So, what did you think?! 
> 
> Let me know in the comments please because I LOVE ALL COMMENTS HI I'M THE BIGGEST SLUT FOR COMMENTS.
> 
> If you liked what you read, come find me on tumblr @hootyhoobuckaroo if you wanna say hi or even make a request - my requests are open so please drop one in the ask box if you feel like it!
> 
> (HI ALSO I AM SUCH A SLUT FOR REQUESTS IF U HAVE ONE IT WILL MAKE MY DAMN DAY)


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